


Michael Myers Drabbles

by nobody_is_typing



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25313698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobody_is_typing/pseuds/nobody_is_typing
Summary: Exactly what the title says!
Relationships: Michael Myers/Original Character(s), Michael Myers/Original Female Character(s), Michael Myers/Reader, Michael Myers/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 85





	1. Engagement ring

"Michael, would you care if I got a ring?" You ask him, watching as he separates the candy from the wrapper and pops it in his mouth, not really acknowledging you. "Cause people usually do it as a sign of commitment and I know how possessive you are, I think it'd be cute to be able to wear something that shows I'm yours." He does acknowledge you then, gesturing to the mask resting on your thigh. "No, I can't wear that out, people will think I'm nuts." He stares. "Okay, hey, no need to be rude." You giggle, smacking his shoulder lightly before he goes back to his pile of sweets. You sigh, holding out your hand and spreading your fingers, trying to imagine a metallic band around your skin. "You know, in typical relationships, the guy is supposed to propose."

Michael seems to think this over for a second before he begins to dig through his after Halloween discount haul, tossing aside the ones that get in his way before he appears to find what he's looking for.

He turns around and holds out a Ring Pop.


	2. Family fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael Myers has a family??

Michael knew you hadn't moved without even having to check your paper trail, no one would keep the same Halloween decorations out year round, especially when it was one he'd given you. A tin pumpkin with a wide smile and bright eyes, your front door key taped it behind it's carved teeth. He let himself in, immediately noticing the colorful toys scattered around the room, ones he knew were for smaller children but his ignorance couldn't put a name to the designs. Placing the key in his pocket, he steps over the plastic pieces, making his way towards the kitchen. Uncaring of the debris his boots left with each step. 

He pounds his fist against the countertop in a sequence the two of you had decided on years ago when he came and went as he pleased. A smile nearly graced the features under his mask when he heard you charging down the stairs. "Michael." Your voice is airy with disbelief, your body clad in only a robe that you clutched in your trembling hands. He offers a small wave of his huge hand and you smile. "Are you going to leave soon?" A frown sours your lovely face as you adjust your posture, not relaxing even as he slowly shakes his head.

'My work is done.' 

"How can you be so confident?" 

'It's over.' And you think you understand, wherever he had gone, whatever he had done, brought him some kind of closure. You wonder if it would last when he discovered what had happened in his absence. 

"I missed you." Walking down the rest of the stairs, you waited until he raised his arms enough for you to fit your own underneath before hugging him tightly. Michael wasn't one to initiate affection but he had learned to accept yours, even if he acted indifferent towards it. "Almost two years." You sighed against his coveralls, nuzzling his chest, nearly crying when he let his hands fall onto your back. 

You aren't sure how long the two of you stay like that before a high pitched whine begins to echo from up the stairs, Michael pulls away and signs 'dog' with a tilt of his head, a question. 

"Um, no... I have something to show you and I need you to leave your knife on the table. If you're okay with it I'd prefer you take your mask off as well." He doesn't move for a moment, growing slightly suspicious as the whining gets louder, but he relents and hesitates only slightly as he pulls the silicone off of his head. "You're still so handsome." You sigh, running your hands along his jaw as gently as you can. The whining gets louder. "Shit, okay." 

You lead him up the stairs and to a room at the back of the hall, more plastic things littered on the floor, a crib placed in the corner. A child grabbing at you as you lift them up. "Hey, you're okay, what happened? Did you have a bad dream?" You ask in a soft voice, stroking their golden hair as they bury their face in your neck and sniffle. Turning, you face him as you rock the infant. Because that's what they are, no more than a year old. A baby. "This is Audrey, she's eleven months old, and the bravest baby you'll ever meet." Michael doesn't move from the doorway and wonders what to do, the voices are screaming to find the one who took his place in your bed, his thoughts conflicted and confused. Why were you showing him some other man's child? "She's ours Michael, I named her after you. I thought you'd approve." The little girl with her blonde hair, sucks her thumb into her mouth and exhales unevenly as she calms down. 

He's stunned, absolutely at a loss for what to do, mind completely empty except for one word. "Mine." His voice startles him, raspy and weak from lack of use, his mouth dry as he stares at the child falling asleep in your arms. You appear just as shocked as he is. 

"Audrey Myers, since no one knows who you are out here, I gave her your name." He doesn't move. "Do you want to hold her?" This snaps him back to his typical self, stiff and stoic. But you adjust your grip on your daughter and hold her out for him to take, watching as she fusses at losing your body heat. Michael doesn't take her until you lay her small body against his chest and move his hands individually to support her. Audrey quickly gets comfortable once more and sighs happily as she begins to drool on her father's chest. Michael just looks at you and cradles her like he's holding the most delicate and fragile thing in the world. "I tell her about you, the parts I can, at least. That you're brave, strong, and that you don't give up. She knows what you look like, I keep pictures around the house, I made sure she's not afraid of the mask either. She has one in her toy bin downstairs." You're quiet for a moment, letting him digest what you're telling him. "I won't ask you to stay, I know how you are. But I'm giving you the option to." His hold on Audrey tightens nearly imperceptibly, like he's expecting you to try and take her from him. Michael doesn't move, just feels his huge hand rise and fall with the little girl's breathing. With his daughter's breathing. "We can talk about it tomorrow." You offer, reminding both of you that it's nearly two in the morning. He nods slowly but steps away when you try to take Audrey to put her back into bed, twisting his torso to shield her from you. Instantly he's ashamed of himself, hating that his instincts gave him away so easily. But you just smiled and wiped at your eyes, inhaling deeply before the two of you head towards the master bedroom, laying down with Audrey still on his chest. You face him, watching the two of them until sleep claims you, your hand on top of his. 

The voices are violent tonight, demanding he hurt anyone who even considers trying to take him away from this house, these people, his daughter. His view shifts and he realizes he doesn't want to destroy this family, his family, he realizes that he's willing to die protecting it. When Michael finally lets himself fall asleep, his last thought is of the stereotype that teenage girls have overprotective fathers.


	3. Michael cheats 1/3

"Michael this isn't fair, I'm allowed to go out and do things, I'm allowed to have friends and a job. I'm allowed to have car troubles and ask a coworker to drive me home. Have a friend drive me home." Michael doesn't move, his well muscled arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't move but he sure as shit stares you down, his milky white eye seeming to gaze right past you and into some realm you can't fathom. But you're too angry to admire him right now, too angry to do anything but try to match his stance despite him towering over you. In any other situation this might have been amusing. But with the blood of your coworker cooling on his blade, this was far from it. "You don't own me Myers." 

For some reason this spurs him into action, his huge hand grabbing at your arm and attempting to pull you towards him. But you fight, beating your hands against him as you yell your objections. Finally, you accidentally catch him in the jaw, his head tilting back as you freeze. He let you move him like that, he was allowing you what you're sure he considered a "tantrum," but you knew his tolerance was waning.

"You don't own me, Myers." You hiss, yanking yourself away. "I don't want you touching me right now." He tilts his head as though considering your sentence, his uninjured eye looking you up and down. Eventually he relaxes and lets you step away from him, walking away after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

Typically, you did most of the talking in your relationship, the two of you practicing sign language to have normal conversations but you've never heard Michael speak out loud. So silence was something you were used to, long periods of time where not a sound was uttered yet you didn't feel the need to fill up the empty air. Uncomfortable silence had not been a thing since your relationship was new, since before you could call it a relationship. 

You'd learned to read him in that time between the uncomfortable silences and now, so you knew he was displeased by the way he held himself and the minute changes in his facial features. The part of you that was dependent on him and his approval wanted to apologize then and there. But the independent part of you that realized his attachment was unhealthy and desired your independence forced you to remain silent. 

He grabbed a jacket, one you'd actually bought him that wasn't yet stained with blood. But as he quietly closed the door behind him you realized he might come home with it ruined and the thought irked you, not the thought that he'd hurt someone but the thought that you'd have to clean up after him. "Fuck you, Myers." You glare at the door, crossing your arms as you stand alone in the living room, like he can still see you pouting. "Fuck." 

You decide to get a shower, a scalding hot shower with the radio up high, something to distract yourself from the eventual awkward make-up the two of you were going to have. Something to distract you from the fact that you miss him already. Time ticks on, the water turns cold, the house turns dark, and you get lonely. Not necessarily knowing what else to do, you go to bed. But sleep doesn't find you easily, your argument with Michael replaying in your head until you're physically unable to keep yourself awake anymore. The last time you look at the clock before you fall until the arms of unconsciousness it reads 1:43 a.m.

Warm fingers ghost across your cheek, gently rousing you from your sleep, pulling away as you stretch with a wide yawn. "Michael?" Blinking, you take in his tall frame as he stares down at you, his uncovered facial features paying full attention to the curves and contours of your body. "I missed you." You admit, nearly guilty in your tone. He offers you his hand, helping you stand on your mattress so you are closer to his height, cupping your face as he kisses you gently. An apology in true Michael Myers fashion. Lifting your hands, you run them along the skin of his neck with the intention to wrap your arms around him. But something smears across your fingertips, making you pull away in confusion. 

It's not red, like you expected it to be, not the texture of drying blood. It's pink and sticky and smells of cherry. You lean away, taking in his appearance. His messy hair, the light bite mark underneath his jaw, the way his shirt is stretched out like it gets when you yank it off of him. "M-Michael?" He wraps his arms around your waist and goes to kiss you again. But this time you smell the corner store perfume and cigarette smoke. "Michael?" Tears prick your eyes as you struggle in his grip, tumbling off the bed and cracking your head against the wall when he releases you. You're not sure if it was the pain of impact or the flood of emotions your realization brings forth but you're in tears. "Did you-" what were you going to say? He was Michael Myers and you were just... cruelly mundane. Of course he'd go somewhere else. To someone else. This city didn't know him, to these people he was simply handsome and quiet, odd but not immediately creepy or dangerous. Of course he'd been able to find someone at a bar. "Are you-" 

He just tilts his head and stares.

"That's not fair, Michael. He was my friend, he never touched me." You cry quietly, curling as small as you possibly can, not bothering to wipe at the fat tears streaming down your cheeks. "I never touched him." After a few minutes of quiet sobbing you stand on shaky legs, walking towards the bathroom and flipping on the lights. "You should take a shower, Michael. You don't want to get into bed when you're sweaty." He just stands there, hands at his sides, unnervingly still. "Please, just get a shower." Your throat is thick and you're grateful when he finally steps inside the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

Knowing it won't take long for him to clean himself (Michael doesn't enjoy showers, he does only what needs to be done), you quickly gather some pillows and your favorite blanket before quietly yet quickly making your way to the basement. It's too cold to sleep outside but you just want to be as far away from him as possible. 

The basement is the only part of the house where nothing personal resides. Where there are no pictures or colors, just the cement walls and the thin carpet. It's surprisingly warm and devoid of cobwebs or grime, so it's definitely not the worst place you could spend the night. The thought that spending the night in Michael's arms would be that place popped into your head and it sends you into a sobbing meltdown that you try to stifle with one of the pillows you'd gathered, not wanting him to find you. Maybe he'd worry, maybe he'd go out and search the neighborhood looking for you, it would serve him right.

You try to organize your thoughts, to catch a single one and cling to it. But your mind is racing so fast that the only thing you comprehend is the pounding in your head, the thickness in your throat, and the inability to stop the tears streaming down your face. You love Michael. You adore him. And now you wonder if he feels the same. 

You cry yourself to sleep.


	4. Michael cheats 2/3

You hadn't seen Michael at all today, having woken up in an empty house, kept yourself busy in an empty house, and cried in an empty house. There hadn't been much for you to do after a while, you didn't want to visit or bring any attention into your friends in case Michael didn't like them, you didn't want to go anywhere in case Michael came home, but you also didn't want to see him. You were so hurt and angry and confused, whenever you made a decision to stay or leave you’d immediately take it back. There had been a half-packed suitcase on your bed since the early afternoon.

You’d filled it with your clothes, realized they smelled of him, took them out and sobbed. You’d filled it indiscriminately, found his shirts, took them out and cried. Your jackets, your underwear, your pants, even your fucking socks made you curl into a ball and cry. There wasn’t a future you could picture that didn’t have Michael in it but there wasn’t one you could imagine yourself happy in either.

You wondered why he kept you around. Obviously, it wasn’t for sex at this point. Was it because you offered him a place to sleep? That he knew you wouldn’t call the police? That you gave him affection with little expectation of its return? Why weren’t you good enough? Hadn’t you proven yourself trustworthy? There had been so many opportunities to leave or hurt him or get him caught. But you’d never taken them because you love him. Loved him. Forcing yourself to think in the past tense hurt so fucking much but you aren’t sure where you’re going to go from here. If he’ll even let you leave or if he’ll kill you since you seem to have outlived your usefulness. 

As the sun sets, casting its last rays through your bedroom window, you can hear him coming up the stairs. For a split second, you wonder if you should hide, but then realize it would just irritate him. So you hug yourself tighter and wait. He’s wearing his mask when he walks in, the coveralls undone and knotted around his waist as he watches you wipe your face and attempt to calm yourself. 

Neither of you says anything for a while, the only sounds are his even breathing and your sniffling, the air uncomfortable and awkward. 

“Why-” Your voice is weak so you pause to clear your throat. “Did I do something wrong?” Michael just looks down at you. “Was I not good enough?” He says nothing. “I thought- I guess I was stupid to think that you liked me, huh?” 

This is when he tosses a backpack in front of you, making your gasp in surprise. He takes a seat next to you, crossing his legs as he beings to sign: ‘It didn’t feel right when it wasn’t you.’ Slowly, gently, you unzip the bag and glance inside. 

The first thing you notice are the blood-splattered lips covered in high shine lip gloss, and you’re sure that if the overpowering scent of blood wasn’t present, you would be able to smell cherries. You turn to him, watching him take his mask off before continuing. 

‘You’ll find someone better than me and leave.’ Michael stares at you, his gaze intense and you’re honestly stunned he’s being this vulnerable emotionally. 

Tears gather in your eyes as you zip the bag back up and shove it aside, rising to your knees, “honey, no.”

He stretches out his fingers, cracking his knuckles like he’s about to fight someone before he signs: ‘I’m sorry, please stay.’ 

Michael-fucking-Myers had just apologized. 

Michael.

Audrey.

Myers.

Had just said he was sorry. 

It took less than a second for you to fling yourself into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding on tightly as you start to cry again, hiccupping when you felt his strong arms hug your waist just as desperately. “I love you, I love you so much, please don’t do this again.” You feel him nod against your shoulder and you let yourself relax in his arms. He holds you, wrapping your legs around his hips with your chest pressed tightly to his, and just lets you sit in his lap until you can calm down. 

You don’t notice when Michael silently mouths the words ‘I love you too.’


	5. Michael cheats 3/3

It's late, but it always is when Michael is standing at the edge of your bed, his masked face giving nothing away. He just stands there, watching you as you roll over and adjust your pillow. "Are you going to come to bed?" Your voice is groggy from sleep and you're still a little disoriented. "I'm sure you have a variety to choose from." You hadn't intended to say that out loud, but it hadn't even registered with you until he yanks on your ankle, jerking your body down the mattress as you scream. "Michael! What the fuck!"

'I want to fix it.' He signs, his breath heavy behind his mask. 'I don't want you to be mad anymore.'

You sit up, hugging a pillow to your chest as you sigh heavily. "I don't know how to explain this to you in a way that will make sense." You sigh again. "I thought I was special to you, different than Laurie and Jamie, that I meant something to you. But then I realized that I don't, that I'm replaceable and probably just convenient to have around. So I'm waiting for you to find someone who can offer you more, I'm waiting for you to leave."

'Do you want me to?'

"No, Michael, I don't. But I want you to love me and I'm not sure you can." Neither of you move for a moment, you can tell he's thinking and it crosses your mind that maybe tonight is when you exhaust your usefulness.

'I can't give you normal.'

"I'm not asking you to." He takes another moment before he slowly reaches up and takes off his mask, unzipping his coveralls before slowly sliding in to bed beside you. Assuming that this signals the end of your discussion, you cover yourself with your sheets once more until his huge hand stops you.

'I-' He stops, gathering himself. 'You are important to me.'

"I need you to prove it to me, honey. I don't believe you anymore." Tears gather in your eyes at your honesty, even more when he nods slowly before letting you bury into the comfort of your bed once more.

After a while, you feel his hands move around you, holding you gingerly, like he's waiting for you to scream. But you let him drag you against his chest, immediately remembering how much you missed this feeling. You cry softly into his shirt, unable to help yourself. "I-" the deep voice above you is raspy and broken, it makes you freeze and attempt to pull away from him so you can make sure you're not hallucinating. But his hands hold you tightly. "I love you."

You can barely breathe. Michael has never spoken a god damn word to you, or anyone, in over fifteen years. And the first words to pass between his lips are 'I love you.' This is hard for him, you don't need to be looking at him to know. You're also aware of the fact that Michael doesn't say anything he doesn't mean or isn't ready to commit to... Michael just, out loud, admitted that he loves you.

You curl into his chest, clutching him as tightly as possible as you exhale shakily. "I love you too, honey. So much... We can start over tomorrow, okay? Pretend like it never happened."

"I'm sorry." Dr. Loomis would be losing his mind if he could hear Michael now, going bat shit crazy at the sound of his "PURE EVIL" patient apologizing.

"I know, honey. I know." Your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt and you eventually fall asleep to the soft sound of his heart beat against your cheek. But Michael doesn't sleep, he holds you and tries his best to picture a world without you in it. After several hours he realizes he can't. Because everything he does revolves around you, protecting you is his purpose, loving you is his purpose.


End file.
